Professionally Intoxicated
by Fidgett
Summary: It all started when Mycroft Holmes turned up at Greg Lestrade's home in the early hours of the morning.
1. Chapter 1

Greg woke up to his phone beeping and vibrating in his pocket, alerting him of a text. He'd fallen asleep on his sofa after coming home from a very long, tiring and stressful day at work. He had thrown himself on to the sofa and lain there staring at the ceiling trying to forget the events of the day. He couldn't remember falling asleep, but, evidently, he had.

He hazily glanced at the clock on the wall, it was 11.23 pm. _Who's texting me at this time of night?_

He took his phone out of his pocket and "1 New Message. Unknown" appeared on the screen. He opened the message and read it, raising an eyebrow.

_Gregoyr Lestrde! MJ_

After a few seconds he realised it was the other Holmes brother. Mycroft. _How delightful..._Mycroft was possibly the only person in the country who could send a text under "unknown", but he didn't seem to be as insufferable as his brother. Yes, the man obviously had an intellect the same size as Sherlock's or possibly larger, but Greg has never felt like Mycroft has been purposely intimidating or gone out of his way to show everyone how brilliant and exceptional he is which he admired him for.

He considered replying, but it was clear that Mycroft was intoxicated so he closed the message and pocketed his phone. He got up off the sofa and then his phone went off again. He dug the phone out of his pocket, sighing. Unknown. He opened the message.

_I cbnn sed ynt. mh,_

Fortunately, he was able to work out what Mycroft was meant to say before Mycroft decided to send him another impatient text._ I can see you. MH. _Instinctively, he looked around the room, knowing full well that no one was there and that Mycroft was very good at watching people without them even suspecting that they're being observed from afar. Knowing what Mycroft has done made he feel quite uncomfortable, knowing he can and possibly has watched him every night as he sprawls out on the sofa, trying to erase every unpleasant death from his memory until he slips into a deep sleep.

_Did you bug my living room? _

He waited, phone in hand. He knew Mycroft could reply faster than the average person, along with his brother which Greg already had the experience of the vexatious fast replies.

His phone beeped.

_I nay hbvc in my _spbre _ __ tinf. MH. _

_I may have in my spare time._ _Wonderful. _He considered pocketing his phone again and just heading to bed, but he knew Mycroft would text him a ridiculous number of times until Greg gave in and replied. Him and his brother were the same, if they want attention, they will get attention.

_Lovely. How much alcohol have you drank, Holmes? _

He stood there for a few moments, but got no reply. He looked around the room, searching every inch of the room which was in his view. _Where has he put the cameras? _He walked to a corner of the room and looked up to the corner where the ceiling and the wall met. _There's no camera. _He did the same for every other corner of the room, scanning along the top of the walls at the same time. _Nothing, not even a little black dot that I could mistake as a spider. Damn it. Why am I even bothered? It's not like he's going to see anything. It's not like I have a significant lady or man in my life to bring back every night, or every other night. No, I just go to work in the morning, come home late and crash out on the sofa, every single night. Nothing that would interest him at all, he has more important matters to attend than to watch me in my living room, but why has he bugged it?_

He flopped himself back onto the sofa and resumed earlier's staring contest with the ceiling, this time thinking about why Mycroft would install cameras somewhere in his front room, instead of the deaths he has to deal with every other day.

* * *

><p>He jerked up right on the sofa as his phone continuously vibrated in his pocket, the irritating ringtone blaring from his thigh. He must have fallen asleep again. <em>Now what? <em>He thought as he took his phone out of his pocket to see _Unknown Calling _on the screen. _Has he not passed out yet? _

"Greg Lestrade here." He said groggily, holding the phone against his ear, rubbing his face with his free hand.

"Gregoryyy! Darling, Gregory! W-"

"Mycroft, how much alcohol have you consumed tonight?" Greg interrupted. He dared a glance at the clock, which was now informing him it was 1.54 am, and frowned at it.

"Now, my love, that would be telling!" Mycroft slurred down the phone.

"You sound like you've consumed an extreme amount. You're very drunk, you should go to bed. Wait, where _are _you?" The thought of Mycroft being in a pub getting rat faced surrounded by the people his kind despises unsettled him.

"Gregory, Darling... I am _not _drunk, don't be so... ridiculous. I am a _professional _after all." Mycroft slurred again, but he sounded like he was getting his composure back.

"You're a professional at getting drunk?"

"Intoxicated is a better term, I believe." There. His composure had completely returned.

"Where are you?" Greg didn't know why it mattered so much to him, he knew Mycroft would be fine. If anyone tried to touch Mycroft with a feather they'd have a number of people jumping on them, he was safe, but he felt the like it was necessary to know where the drunken fool was.

"Now that would be spoiling the surprise, my love."

"What? Surprise?..." _What on earth is he talking about? _

"See you soon, very soon."

Mycroft hung up. Greg just stared at his mobile phone. He didn't like how Mycroft had said the final sentence of their conversation and he had a feeling he wasn't joking about the _very soon_part.

About 5 minutes later, there was a knock at his door. He jerked his head round facing the living room door, he could see the front door, but it was too dark outside to see any silhouette through the glass. He didn't move, he couldn't. He had a bad feeling about this.

His phone beeped.

_Darling, you're not going to let me stand out here all night, are you? MH. _

Greg frowned at the message. _Well, he's certainly sobered up._ He managed to force himself off the sofa and walked to the front door. He grabbed the keys off the small shelf next to the door and began to unlock the door. _Why do I have a feeling this isn't a visit about police matters? _He unlocked the door and opened it enough to see who was there while still blocking entry. As he feared, Mycroft stood there dressed in his usual clothing, his mouth twitching slightly at the corners.

"Hello, my love."

"Can you stop calling me that?"

Mycroft smirked. "May I come in?"

"Er... Yeah. Sorry." Greg seemed to be a little flustered, faltering when he opened the door wide enough to allow Mycroft admittance. _Why am I letting him in? If this was any other person, even Sherlock, I would have told them to sod off, shut the door in their face and gone straight to bed. Why am I allowing him into my home, at 2 am!_

He watched Mycroft as he stepped into the house and slipped his shoes off. Greg just stared at his feet for a moment, then realised he was still holding the door open. He looked up and found Mycroft smiling at him. He cleared his throat, avoiding Mycroft's gaze and closed the door. "So... when did you come to the conclusion that 2.10 am was a brilliant time to greet someone with your presence?"

"Only you, my love."

"Sorry?"

"Tea would be nice."

Greg scowled, "Right, yes. Come through." He walked into the kitchen, Mycroft following behind.

"This is lovely."

"What is?"

"Your home. It's very cosy and delightful. You live alone, correct?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm." Greg watched Mycroft eyeing up his kitchen as he started to make some tea, waiting for him to say what he was going to say. He got the hint that he wasn't going to say anything else.

"What?"

Mycroft turned to Greg, "Pardon?" he looked a little distracted.

"You went 'Hmmm' as if you were considering what to say next."

"So it may seem." Mycroft seemed a bit absent, he was looking around Greg's kitchen, looking at every little thing just like Sherlock does when he's examining a corpse for answers. _Brilliant, just brilliant. He's finding everything about me by looking at a stack of mugs. That's brilliant That's just perfect. _

Greg sighed and passed Mycroft a mug of tea. He realised that Mycroft wasn't going to tell him the reason for him turning up at his home in the early of hours of the morning without a nudge in the right direction. "Mycroft, why did you come here?"

"In all honesty, Gregory, I don't have a clue." Greg frowned, turning to look at him, leaning against the worktop. _One does not just decide at 2 am that they are going to go to ones home and drink tea. _"I am intoxicated, my love. When one has..." His hand gestured vaguely in the air as he sought for the right word. "Devoured... a certain amount of alcohol they tend to do things without thinking. Surely, you understand?"

Greg cleared his throat, for the second time tonight. There was something odd about how Mycroft had said _devoured _which had made his heart beat speed up_. _He was beginning to feel rather uncomfortable with one of the Holmes' lot in his house, never mind the fact they are intoxicated and managing to disguise it so well. "Yes, I understand."

Silence fell for a while. Greg sipped at his tea, avoiding Mycroft's gaze. Mycroft just stood there, opposite, watching him. He hadn't touched his tea. Another Holmes trait.

Mycroft finally broke the silence. "How's my dear brother?" He asked, placing his mug on the table.

"You already know how he is. You have cameras everywhere, even in my living room."

Mycroft quirked an eyebrow. "You found them?"

"No."

"How do you know about them then?"

"You text me earlier, can you not remember?"

Mycroft shifted slightly, "I was, and still am, intoxicated."

Greg sighed. "You must have drank a lot. You text me saying 'I can see you'. well it was meant to say that. It was really just jargon. I asked you if you had bugged my living room and you replied some more jargon which I made out to be 'I may have in my spare time'."

"Oh, yes. Now I remember..." Mycroft paused and cleared his throat before carrying on. "I do apologise profoundly for my drunken messages. I don't know what came over me."

"Alcohol." Greg replied bluntly, taking another sip of his tea.

"Ah... yes, that was a bit evident." He replied, averting his gaze to the floor.

Greg couldn't help but chuckle. He felt his body relax as he got comfortable with Mycroft being in his house. Mycroft was not as bad as his brother. Actually, he was very pleasant to be around.

Mycroft looked a bit perplexed when Greg had started to laugh, but that soon passed and he started laughing lightly too, either understanding why Greg was laughing or it was the alcohol consumption.

They soon calmed down and stood smirking at each other from either side of the room. Greg finished his tea and placed it in the sink behind him, turning back around and looking at Mycroft. _Oh, look at him. He's gorgeous. Look at his mouth. Those lips that allow wonderful and intelligent words to escape them. I wonder what it's like to kiss him, to feel his lips against mine... Wait, did I really just think that? Stop it, Greg. Pull yourself together. You're tired. _He had always thought Mycroft was quite the attractive man, the same with his brother and other men he has met in the past but he's never wondered what it would be like to kiss them... He'd always known that there could be the possibility that one day he'd kiss a man, but he never imagined he'd be wanting to kiss Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock Holmes' brother.

Mycroft glanced at his watch and cleared his throat. "Well, it's twenty to three. I guess I should depart. Again, I apologise for the drunken text messages, phone call and then the unexpected visit. I hope you don't have to arise too early in the morning for work." He stood up properly and started for the kitchen door, but he lost his balance. Greg caught him, his hands gripping at his hips to hold him up.

"Mycroft, are you okay?" Greg said quickly, his hands moving from his hips to hold his shoulders. His eyes searching Mycroft's as Mycroft frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Here, sit down." Greg went to pull a chair out from under the table but Mycroft stopped him, placing his hand over his hand on the back on the chair.

"I'm fine, my love. I must have moved a little too fast, that's all." He smiled, looking down at Greg. Greg glanced up at Mycroft, freezing as their eyes met and held the gaze. He swallowed and he felt his heart beat speed up rapidly. His gaze lowered onto Mycroft's mouth. _Those lips, those perfect lips... Do it, Greg. _He mentally shook himself and looked away. _No. Stop it. You _work _with his brother. And he is one of the most powerful people in the country. _

"Gregory..." Mycroft whispered, bringing his hand to Greg's face, cupping his cheek and turning his face back to look at him. Their eyes met again, Mycroft's eyes were wide and so _beautiful. _Mycroft leaned forward, stopping when there was barely a gap between Greg's lips and his own. Each others hot breath warming on their lips. _Lean in, Greg. You'll find out what it feels like, his lips brushing against yours. Maybe it'll lead to a proper kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth, your tongue doing the same. You could taste him, find out if he tastes as delicious as he looks. Indulge yourself. He wants you too. All you have to do is lean forward the slightest bit. _And he did.

Their lips pressed together ever so lightly, then a little more pressure was added. Mycroft parted his lips and Greg followed. The kiss was gentle and loving, so gentle it was painful. Greg needed more. Mycroft pulled away and Greg took a few seconds to find himself again, he looked up at Mycroft who was gazing at him with a flicker of disbelief in his eyes.

Greg realised what just happened. He had kissed Mycroft Holmes. _Mycroft bloody Holmes. _"Mycroft..."

"No. Greg, don't... I understand." Mycroft backed away. "Please, save your breath. I apologise for tonight, I shouldn't have come over. I think I've out stayed my welcome." Mycroft turned and started for a quick and silent exit. Greg couldn't move, he opened his mouth to speak but no noise followed. Mycroft stopped as he stepped outside, he looked back at Greg with the look of regret and disappointment clearly displayed on his delicate face. "Good night, Lestrade." He closed the door. The last sentence lingering in the air around Greg. He hadn't called him Lestrade all night, or Greg. Just Gregory, Darling or My Love. _My Love... Oh Greg, what have you done? _


	2. Chapter 2

"Get off your arse and get to work! People are dying, Anderson. If you don't want me to call Sherlock in then you better start making some progress! If I don't see you making any progress in the next 3 hours I'm going to call him and he'll show you up, again. And if he actually punches you this time, I won't restrain him."  
>He threw down a file onto Anderson's desk and stalked in the opposite direction. Slamming his office door as his colleagues watched him leave, wondering why he was so cranky. He sighed and leaned against the door. He rubbed a hand over his face and headed over to his desk.<p>

It had been 5 days since that night when Mycroft Holmes had paid him a visit. He couldn't stop thinking about it, he had this constant pang in the pit of his stomach, which worsened whenever he'd heard Sherlock's name, instantly reminding him of Mycroft and how he should never have let him walk out that front door, alone and hurt. The look on his face before he shut the door... He didn't think it was possible for either of the Holmes' brothers to be hurt, but evidently it was and he was the reason for Mycroft's pain.

He sat in his chair and covered his face with his hands, allowing another sigh to escape him. He picked up his phone off the desk and considered ringing Sherlock. He knew all too well that there wouldn't be any progress in the next 3 hours, but he needed to trust and have a little faith in his colleagues. It was bad enough that he had to let Sherlock in on a case almost every time and have everyone else stand back and watch. It wasn't fair on them, but he needed Sherlock, no matter what anyone else said.

He dropped his phone onto the desk. He couldn't do it. He hadn't contacted anyone from Baker Street since that night. It reminded him of Mycroft and that night, _the look on his face... _He groaned. _I don't understand. Why did I want to kiss him? I'm not attracted to men in that way..._Sherlock was more than likely caught up with something more interesting and challenging anyway, he hadn't text Greg to mock him as he gave his brief to the force. He was glad, of course. Mainly because he wasn't going to be shown up in front of them idiots out there and also because he didn't want that constant reminder of Mycroft.

_His face... _

It's all he could think about. That pained look on Mycroft's face as he left his house...

_And it was because of me... _

He heard a loud slam which made him jump out of his skin. He opened his eyes and looked up. It was Sally.

"Sir."

"Sally. What is it? I've got things to be doing."

"Well, some man has come to reception requesting to see you."

Greg's heart stopped momentarily, "What does he look like?" because, honestly, who looks like Mycroft Holmes?

"Tall, dark hair, handsome and intimidating. He dresses very smart. I believe I've seen him before but I can't recall where from."

_Oh god. _He had stopped breathing as soon as the words _handsome and intimidating_left her mouth.

"Sir?" Sally stared at him, looking on with concern. She stepped towards his desk. "Sir, are you okay?"

Greg mentally shook himself and resumed breathing. "Er.. yeah. Send him in and make sure no one comes to my office. I want no interruptions for the next hour." He gestured with his hand for Sally to leave and, with hesitation, she did. He had no clue why he said for the next hour, but he thought when Mycroft leaves he'll probably want some time to figure everything out.

He tried to compose himself. He stood up and straightened his suit out, wiping off non-existent dirt. He took a few deep breaths and calmed himself. After 2 minutes of awkwardly standing in silence glancing around his office, tidying his desk as much as he could with all the files and notes covering it, a knock came from the door. _The same knock as that night... _Greg swallowed and took another deep breath before calling "Come in."

As expected, Mycroft Holmes appeared from the other side of the door. "Lestrade."

"Mr. Holmes."

Mycroft averted his gaze from Greg's cautious and apologetic expression. "I'm only here to make sure you understand that what happened the other night occurred because I had consumed quite a few alcoholic beverages and I miss judged how many I could handle. I'm deeply contrite for my actions and I apologise for everything that took place and for waking you up in the early hours of the morning. I just wanted to check that you understand and I hope you forgive me."

"Mycroft, -"

"Lestrade, please." Mycroft jerked his head round and stared directly into Greg's eyes, holding the gaze for 4 long seconds and breaking the contact. Greg watched his throat dip as Mycroft swallowed. _Is he nervous? What..._"Lestrade, do you understand what I just told you?"

"I understand it, I just don't believe it." Greg didn't know where that had come from, but he felt less anxious after saying it and watched Mycroft as he turned to him knowing he'd been caught out.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't believe it." Greg refused to remove his eyes from the taller, most certainly intimidating, mans direction. "I don't believe that it happened because you had become intoxicated. I believe you wanted to kiss me and I believe there's so much more you want to do to me."

Both men were still standing. Greg's anxiety built back up inside him after he had said that, his legs began to feel wobbly and his breathing sped up the slightest. He was beginning to panic. _What if you said the wrong thing? Yes, of course he wanted to kiss you. Look at how his mannerisms changed around you, but maybe not as far as __**that**__... _

The next thing he knew, Mycroft was at the side of him, repeating his actions from the other night. He cupped Greg's cheek with his hand and turned his face towards him, stroking his thumb over Greg's cheekbone and leaning down to his face and planting a light, soft kiss on his lips. He pulled back, smiling, a genuine smile. "And you have things you want to do to me..." Mycroft whispered, raising his free hand to tilt Greg's head back a little, running his thumb over his lips. He leaned forward and kissed Greg again, with a little added pressure this time. Greg parted his lips against Mycroft's and Mycroft did the same. Their tongues searching the other's mouth, savouring what they taste like together, trying to memorise as much as they could of each other.

Greg soon found himself pushed up against the wall by a tall, dark haired male, moaning into his mouth as they kissed. The other mans hands were down his trousers, pleasure surging through his body as his cock was being gently caressed. His hands were attached to the back of Mycroft's neck, lightly scraping his nails over his skin. He tried to resist bucking his hips, but sometimes it was too much and he couldn't help it. He'd end up grinding against Mycroft's thigh and Mycroft would try and calm him down. It wouldn't last long, he'd eventually start again and Mycroft just gave up in the end and allowed him to grind.

Not long after, Greg reached the highest point of pleasure and came over Mycroft's hand. Mycroft cleaned his hand on a spare shirt Greg threw at him as Greg rearranged his clothing and made sure he didn't look like he'd just been tossed off by a Sociopath's Brother.

Greg was still making sure none of his clothes were creased as he saw Mycroft staring at him out the corner of his eye. He look up at him, "What?" he asked, feeling a bit anxious.

The corners of Mycroft's lips threatened a smile, "You don't know how long I've been wanting to do that."

Greg couldn't help but grin like a teenage boy, knowing that Mycroft had fantasised about touching Greg for longer than 5 days made him warm inside. "How long?"

"Ever since we first met. I saw you and something obscene happened inside me. I didn't understand at first, but eventually I figured it out and I realised I liked you. That I wanted you, to myself."

"Well, that's good then. You have me now."

"Yes, it seems I do." The smile that was previously threatening to appear finally allowed itself to take over the lower half of Mycroft's delicate face. Mycroft stepped a couple of feet closer to Greg and cupped his chin with his hand, lifting it upwards slightly and chastely kissing him on the lips. "I've got to go, but I shall ring you as soon as I can sneak away from business for 5 minutes." He stroked the back of his knuckles lightly down the side of Greg's face before heading the to door. "Speak soon, my love." Greg nodded in response before Mycroft made a swift exit and left.

Greg just stood there, smiling smugly to himself. He had just received a hand job from Sherlock Holmes' brother. _Let's see how long it takes him to work this out._


	3. Chapter 3

The week had gone much more swiftly than Greg had expected. Mycroft called as often as possible, which wasn't very often, but Greg had to take into consideration Mycroft's_ minor _position in the Government. Minor being the understatement of the year. He received a phone call off him at least once every day, although one day he did receive an unexpected second phone call, which lifted his spirits after a bad day around Sherlock.

"Greg Lestrade."

"Good Evening, my Love."

"My- I can't talk... I have company, again." Greg struggled to hold back a grin. He glanced at the two distinct men across the room and gestured with his hand to say he'd only be a moment as he exited into the empty room next door.

"Ahh. My dear Brother is still with you. Has he not managed to fathom out who keeps ringing you?"

Greg chuckled, "No, I'm afraid he hasn't. Do you know when yet?"

"Two days."

"Two days?" He sighed horribly. "It's seems like a year away."

"I know, Gregory, but it's sooner than I anticipated."

"I just want you here."

"I know, my Love. It won't be long now. I promise."

There was a moments silence as both men just listened to each other breathing on the other end of the call. It was soothing and relaxing, this had happened in every phone call between them. Greg didn't complain, he loved it. He could listen for hours.

"Darling..." Greg sighed a little, the silence had ended and he knew he wouldn't get another phone call until tomorrow. "I have to go. I'll ring you as soon as possible." Tomorrow night.

"I'll be waiting."

"Good night, Gregory."

"Good night, Mycroft."

Since that phone call Greg had been a joy to be around. After each hour passed, his mood seemed to have increased. Sherlock, of course, was wary of his sudden mood change when he returned to his office and claimed it was "repugnant" before deciding the cause of it was down to being a woman he was seeing. _He has no idea. _

Greg had been checking his phone all day, expecting to have missed his phone alerting him of a text which would have been impossible because he'd practically been surgically attached to it all day.

"Your lady friend not rang you today?"

"Hmm?" Greg looked up from his phone to see Sherlock pulling books off shelves and throwing them down onto the nearest table, flipping through them at a rapid pace.

"You keep checking your phone. You're obviously waiting for her to contact you." Greg smirked, pocketing his phone and grabbing a book off the table. "What?"

Sherlock looked up that time, glaring at Greg in a way that said 'Have I missed something?'. Greg shrugged his shoulders and flicked through the book that he wasn't planning on reading at all.

"She's not a _her_, is she?"

Greg's head jerked up then, panic twisting around in his stomach. A smirk slowly stretched across Sherlock's face. _Shit._

"So, Lestrade. Who is _she? _Or should I say... _he._"

Greg cleared his throat and averted his gaze back to the book. "What are you supposed to be looking for in these books?"

"Do I know him?"

"I mean, there are loads of books here. This could take days."

"Lestrade." Greg dared to look at Sherlock then, his eyes met Sherlock's and he knew he knew. "Are you insane? Mycroft? Out of all the inane, thick-headed, indolent, underdeveloped individuals on this planet, you chose him."

There was an awkward silence that dragged out far too long. Sherlock started piling books on top of each other, snatching the one Greg was holding and placing it at the top. "I want these books, and these books only, to be taken to Baker Street. I'll contact you when I find something."

"You mean when you solve the case."

"Yes." and Sherlock left, leaving Greg standing there in some poor dead guys living room. He sighed and dug his phone out of his pocket. Just as he was about to press the call button to ring Donovan, he got a text.

_Mycroft. _

He eagerly opened the message, which read _8 o'clock, Baker Street._ Greg sighed, again. _Baker Street. Mycroft and I at Baker Street, while his brother is in a strop. Brilliant idea. _

He clicked on the reply button and typed _He knows. _pressing the send button and pocketing his phone.

30 seconds later.

_I know, it's fine. Everything will be fine, my Love. I promise._

Greg couldn't help but be a little doubtful.

He stood outside Speedy's, hands dug deep into his coat pockets. He hated the winter months and February always seemed to be worst month. He checked his watch, _7.56pm._ He sighed, looking down the street. He knew Mycroft wouldn't turn up early, or late. He'd turn up on time, dead on 8 o'clock. He started to shake, it was freezing. _I should have put something warmer on... I'm not going in yet. No. I'll wait until Mycroft gets here. Sherlock probably knows I'm stood out here, anyway. He's just too pompous to invite me in. _

He heard the door of 221 creak open and saw John standing on the step struggling to pull his coat on. "Here," He heard a deep voice as he stepped back into the farthest corner, thankful for his choice to wear dark coloured clothes and the lack of light.

"Thanks."

"How painful is it? You can stay here if you need to rest."

"No, no. I'll be fine. It's fine. I need to get out, being at the surgery all day isn't tremendously exciting compared to what I get up to with you."

He saw Sherlock pull John closer to him and slide his hands around his waist. "We don't have to leave the flat to do anything exciting."

"Sherlock, we're in public." John mumbled as he attempted weakly to push Sherlock away. Sherlock just chuckled and kissed John's forehead before unwrapping his arms from around John and walking down the street in the opposite direction, John dawdling alongside him. _What..._

As John and Sherlock disappeared down the street, out of Greg's view, a black car pulled up and the door swung open._ Typical._Greg stepped out of the shadows and accepted the invitation to enter the car.

He seated himself onto the backseat and found himself staring at a woman. It took him a few moments to realise he'd seen her before with Mycroft whenever he came to crime scenes to taunt his brother, whom he thought was his _lady_or something like that, but it turns out she's just his PA.

A light voice came from the other side of the car as he sat. "Good evening."

"Where's Mycroft?"

"He's waiting for you."

"Where?"

"Your house, of course."

"Of course..."

He heard her give a little laugh, which lasted for about a second, as she typed frantically on her Blackberry. She was always on that god damn thing and it annoyed Greg a little. He was always curious about why she always had her phone glued to her hands all day and night and he knew he'd never find out.

The car journey was short, fortunately, and quiet, very quiet. The car pulled up outside his house, Greg didn't even hesitate to get out and he didn't even think about saying Good Bye to the brunette attached to her phone. He just retreated from the car and rushed to his front door. He felt his stomach knot with anxiety as he fumbled with his keys, searching for the correct one as the door opened wide in front of him.

"Gregory." The melodious voice greeting him, accompanying a warmhearted smile.

As soon as he spoke the anxiety that had been rioting around in the pit of his stomach had calmed, "Mycroft..." Greg didn't know why, but his voice failed him and it seemed to have come out as a whisper.

"Are you coming inside, Darling?" Greg shook himself mentally, realising he'd been staring, god knows how long for. Mycroft tilted his head to the side, that warmhearted smile still taking over the bottom half of his face, sending fuzzy sensations round Greg's body.

"Er... yeah..." Mycroft chuckled and when Greg still didn't move to enter the house, his soft, benevolent hands gripped lightly around Greg's arms and pulled him into the hallway, closing the door with his foot.

Greg found himself being spun round to face Mycroft and pulled closer, long, elegant arms wrapping around him, closing the gap between the two figures. Greg nuzzled his head into Mycroft's shoulder as Mycroft burrowed his own face into Greg's soft hair. They stayed like that for a little while, breathing in each other's scent, revelling in the warmth enveloping them.

Mycroft was the one to break the embrace and Greg sighed, his hands resting at Mycroft's hips. "Have you eaten?"

"Er.. no, not yet."

"Good." Mycroft clasped his hand in his and Greg was all of a sudden being pulled into the Dinning room, being pushed gently back into one of the chairs at the table as he watched the other man take 2 plates out of the oven and placing one in front of Greg and the other opposite as he took a seat. "Bon appétit."

Greg stared at Mycroft for a second and then glanced down at the meatballs and spaghetti presented as if it came out of a 5 star restaurant and smelled delicious. "You cooked this?" He looked back up at Mycroft who had retrieved a bottle of red wine out of nowhere and was pouring some into Greg's glass.

"Yes." He smirked as he started to pour some wine into his glass. "I, unlike my brother, do not order takeaways and pull them off as my own to impress my boyfriend."

Greg scoffed, causing Mycroft to raise an eyebrow as he placed the bottle on the table and made a start on his food. "Was boyfriend the wrong term?"

"For who?"

"You."

"Um.. no. I guess not. I just... never thought about us calling each other our boyfriends..." He averted his gaze to his food and made a poor attempt of starting his food, which ended up him twirling the spaghetti around on his fork.

"Would you prefer it if we used a different term?"

"No, no. Boyfriend is fine." He glanced up at his _boyfriend_across the table eating his food in the possibly the most pleasant and precise way he had ever seen anyone eat, especially spaghetti. "You sent me to Baker Street on purpose, didn't you?" he queried before taking a mouthful of spaghetti, not at all in the same manner as Mycroft, feeling a little uncomfortable eating in front of him.

"Yes, I believe the reason I sent you there was uncovered because you didn't respond to my comment about my brother."

"They're together."

"Yes, I knew he'd find out about us before I returned so I wanted you to find out about them without me telling you. You may have accused me of lying and I didn't want to risk a domestic between us, but now Sherlock can't say anything. Not now you know."

"How long have they been together?"

"Ah, well, that's a good question. They don't even know themselves, it just sort of happened." Mycroft shrugged and took a swig of his drink.

Half an hour later, Greg was stretched out on the sofa, snuggled up to Mycroft as he worked away on his laptop. He thought it was strange that they'd become so couple-y so suddenly, but he liked it. In fact, he loved it. He enjoyed being at Mycroft's side, feeling the warmth radiating off his body against his cheek. But he loved the feeling of having someone who cared more, how he didn't have the feeling of being alone to return to every night after work. He knew Mycroft would rarely be around, but he knew that he'd always be here when he has the opportunity.

Mycroft's hand had found it's way into his hair and lazily started to draw circles lightly onto his scalp. Soothing, calming and comforting him. His eyes started to gradually close as his breathing slowed and he drifted into a world of deep sleep. The last thing to happen that he could comprehend, before he allowed himself to fall into a deep slumber, was Mycroft kissing the top of his head and whispering "Good night, my Love." to him with that mellow, soothing voice.


	4. Chapter 4

Greg awoke to find his limbs entangled with an unfamiliar set beside him. He sighed happily, curling himself closer to Mycroft's body and pulling him closer, without waking him. He glanced over his shoulder to the clock on his bedside table, _10.04am_. He didn't have a clue what time Mycroft was supposed to be up and gone, but he didn't want to wake him, not when he looked so peaceful and beautiful, but he had to. He stroked the back of his knuckles down the sleeping being's face and moved his hand to his hips, rubbing small circles on his hip bone. "Mycroft... Mycroft, Wake up... You need to wake up. Come on..." The body lying parallel to him stirred, groaning quietly as he moved his hands to his face, rubbing at his eyes. "Good Morning." Greg smiled as Mycroft groggily stared at him, threatening to doze off again. "Come on you, no dozing off. What time do you have to leave?"

Mycroft turned onto his back, "I don't." He groaned again as he yawned. "I'm staying here with you."

Greg frowned, "but don't you have important things to do, like looking after this country?"

"They know I'm not working today. They had enough notice, and I'm sure the people of this country can survive without me for a day. However, you cannot." Mycroft pulled Greg up close to him, leaning in to steal a kiss, Greg parting his lips against Mycroft's.

The next time Greg woke, the clock informed him it was 12.36pm. _I must have dozed off again... _He glanced at Mycroft, curled in on himself, snuggling up to one of the pillows below his head. It was a delightful picture, a picture he thought he'd never get to see and felt ridiculously happy for witnessing such a sight.

He threw the covers off him, folding his half of them over Mycroft to give him a little extra warmth, and headed downstairs. Two empty bottles of wine stood tall on the coffee table, with two wine glasses loitering in front of the sofa. He entered the kitchen and saw the evidence of Mycroft's cooking. He smiled to himself, thinking about what happened after the dinner. No, there were no sexual encounters, but he wasn't alone and Mycroft didn't expect him to do anything. He allowed him to fall asleep on him, while he sat there getting on with whatever he was doing for work, and he had obviously helped Greg up the stairs to the bedroom and got him into bed. He would have to apologise for that later...

He had made himself a cup of tea and moved into the living room, staring out the window looking onto the street where kids were playing. All of a sudden, he felt soft hands smooth around his waist and resting on his stomach, a chin resting on his shoulder as words were murmured into his ear. "Good Afternoon, my Love. Did you sleep well?"

"Mmm. I did." He leaned his head back to rest on Mycroft's shoulder as the other man started to leave a trail of kisses along his neck up to his ear. "Sorry for falling asleep on you last night. You'd come back from being away, you made me dinner and I just fell asleep on you. It was very... ow!" Greg yelped as Mycroft bit particularly hard on his ear lobe.

"Shhh, Darling. You'll just have to make it up to me later." He whispered into his ear, which caused a shudder to shoot down his spine. Mycroft unwrapped himself from Greg and his body shook at the loss of skin against skin contact. "Is it okay if I have a shower?"

"Of course, you know where it is?"

"Yes, I found it yesterday whilst I was cooking. I shan't be long, my Love." He exited the room and Greg was left staring at the door he had just disappeared through. _Mycroft, in my shower, naked. _He felt his arousal rising inside him but shook himself mentally, attempting to disregard that thought and failing to do so. _I'll finish my tea, give him a bit of time to **get** in the shower. _He finished his tea within the first minute. _Sod it._He placed the cup down on the coffee table, joining the wine bottles, and headed upstairs.

He stood outside the bathroom; the shower was on which meant Mycroft would already be in there. He knocked once, no reply. He knocked a second time, still not reply. _Come on, Mycroft. _He knocked a third time and again, not reply. He couldn't get the image of Mycroft naked in his shower, soap covering his body, his hair soaked and sticking to his face as the shower gushed water over him out of his head. It was taunting him. _Ignorant sod._ He tried the door, making sure it wasn't locked, fortunately it wasn't and he crept inside. He removed his pyjama bottoms and boxers as quietly as possibly, and then he felt a warm, wet hand touch his shoulder and gently turned him around, a mischievous smirk greeting him. Mycroft's eyes raked over his body, slowly overlooking his legs, stopping momentarily over the area in between his legs, before making their way over his torso and meeting with his own eyes. As their eyes met, Greg felt heat rise to his cheeks, knowing his face had quickly developed a bright shade of red, feeling exposed, but relaxed when he remember that Mycroft was _in the shower._

Mycroft was suddenly pulling him into the shower as their lips met, parting against each other, tongues colliding and searching the others mouth fervently. Their naked, wet bodies pressed against each other, arms wrapped around each other, hands running up and down their backs, searching for some kind of purchase until they broke the embrace.

Mycroft's hands gripped at Greg's hips, squeezing gently as he backed him against the wall. A few light kisses were received, Greg desperately trying to make them more, craving the feel of Mycroft against his lips, the taste of him on his tongue, but failing as Mycroft moved them down his neck.

Greg soon found his ability to breathe quickly becoming a struggle as the distinct figure leaning against him started to roll his hips against his own, the feeling of their erections rubbing against each other luring moans from his chest. "Mycroft..." His knees buckled beneath him as Mycroft moved over to his prominent collarbone, biting down and teasing the skin trapped between his teeth. He felt the grip on his hips tighten as Mycroft tried to support him, still clamped on to Greg's collarbone, sucking gently, leaving the threat of a bruise to potentially form in the following hours.

His hands unconsciously smoothed over Mycroft's chest, his nails digging deep into the skin beneath as Mycroft bit harder onto the abused skin, falling victim to sharp teeth. Greg groaned loudly, and suddenly whimpered as Mycroft removed his mouth from his collarbone and returned to his mouth, his tongue sliding along Greg's bottom lip before entering. Mycroft leaned further against him causing Greg's body to arch as their two cocks pressed against each other, the slightest friction being induced as their hips rolled against each other. He ached, he desperately needed to be touched properly, not trapped between two bodies. He slid his hand down Mycroft's chest, barely any space to lift his hand, and took a hold of both of their erections, slick with water and leaking precum.

Mycroft groaned and flustered as Greg's hand wrapped around both of them, his mouth's presence quickly being lost as his head fell to Greg's shoulder, hips gently thrusting into Greg's hand.

Greg chuckled, "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." he taunted, leaning his head against the wall and watching Mycroft as he lifted his head, hunger lingered in his eyes, he'd never seen him like this.

"What?"

"I could get you off with one touch." Greg smirked, letting go of them both and tracing a line with his finger along Mycroft's cock.

"Uhhh. Fuck off. Just get on with it." Mycroft growled as his head dropped to Greg's shoulder once more.

Greg felt his cock ache that little bit more as the words _fuck off_had left Mycroft's lips. He never swore, at least, he'd never heard him swear and, evidently, he found it arousing. He laughed again, trying to distract himself from his own need, teasing Mycroft with his finger, trailing it up his abdomen and back down, lingering over the sensitive skin under his navel.

"Greg, stop fucking around and just touch me." Mycroft spat as his hips thrust against Greg, stealing a moan from him as their erections roughly rubbed together for a split second. Greg's hand jolted down, gripping them tightly as he instantly started a rapid pace. Mycroft growled, pushing himself against Greg's body and squeezing his hips, pulling them closer to meet his. His head dipping to Greg's throat, nipping at the skin under his chin, shortly making his way to his mouth and forcefully kissing him, his hips freely bucking into Greg's hand, matching the pace.

Greg was gone, in a world of lust and hunger. He couldn't think straight, he was overwhelmed with pleasure and he had the upper hand on Mycroft this time. He felt his body tremble against Mycroft's as his orgasm took over. Mycroft soon following, biting down on Greg's bottom lip, holding back his outcry as his body reached its peak.

Both men went limp, Greg slid down the wall, relaxing against it as Mycroft joined him, cleaning them both up with a flannel. They sat there for a moment, with the water pouring over their bodies, which was soon going to make their skin tender and sore from the combination of pressure and heat. Greg felt Mycroft's hand touch his thigh and his other hand reach for his face, turning towards him so he could lean in for one last chaste kiss before Greg got up and let Mycroft continue his shower.

Greg was sat at the table, going through some case documents. He really should have given them to Sherlock yesterday, but he stormed off sulking because he'd found out his brother was in a relationship with the only DI he could wrap around his finger. So, he'd ended up having to go through them.

_I don't even know what I'm looking for, for god's sake. Why am I bothering? _

He sighed and hung his head in his hands, ruffling his hair as his fingers threaded through it. He glanced up at the clock. _3.06pm. Today's going too fast._

"Gregory, my Love?" Greg jerked his head round; he didn't hear Mycroft come down the stairs.

Mycroft entered the kitchen, dressed in his usual clothes. _Not his t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, no. His suit. His god damn bloody suit._

Greg sat back in his chair, observing Mycroft's lean stance. He knew what was coming. "Why are you dressed?"

"Darling, I have to pop out. I'm afraid there have been a few... _hiccups _and I have to go fix them."

"I thought you weren't going in today. You said they'd survive without you for a day."

"Well, I was wrong. I thought they could, but it turns out they're more useless than I thought."

"So, you're just going to go? You've not been back a day yet."

"I know, my Love. I won't be long. I promise." Mycroft walked over to Greg, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his forehead.

"But Mycroft, it's not even been a _day_. You were away for a week, you're back for less than 24 hours and they drag you away again."

"Gregory, I'll be back in a few hours. I won't be long." And he left. No good bye, he just left. _It bloody better be just a few hours._

Greg was startled out of his nap as he heard the front door slam. He'd fallen asleep when he gave up on the case documents and retired to the sofa to watch some crap TV. "Mycroft?"

"Yes, my Love?" Mycroft answered, entering the living room.

He yawned, stretching his arms as he sat up. He looked at the man standing in the doorway, still dressed in his god damn suit, but thankfully taking off his jacket. And that umbrella, that umbrella that's always attached to him when he's out. Luckily, when he's here, he actually detaches it from his arm and leaves it in the hallway. "What time is it?"

"It's 9 o'clock. How long have you been asleep?" Mycroft glanced at the TV and regarded it for a second, seeing that he'd obviously been watching TV instead of doing his job. "Given up on the documents?"

"You said a few hours."

Mycroft sighed, "I know, my Love-"

"And you just walked out. You didn't say good bye, no, you just walked out."

"I can't say good bye to you."

"I think that's- Wait, what?"

"I can't say good bye. Not unless I'm not seeing you for a few days, if I don't say good bye then I know I'm coming back."

"Oh... I didn't.. er... realise." Greg cleared his throat, averting his gaze to the floor as his body warmed up but he felt incredibly guilty too. "I'm sorry."

"Please, don't apologise. You didn't know, I should have realised it would have upset you."

"No, no... I'm not _upset_... Sorry. I guess I'm just being a bit selfish. I was annoyed that you had to go, I just needed a valid reason to complain." He sighed, feeling stupid and guilty. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Mycroft move to stand next to him.

"Come on, let's get you into bed." Mycroft said with a comforting tone slipping through his usual melodic manner, stroking a hand through Greg's hair before encouraging him to get up by gripping his arm. "You need to sleep, there's that possibility you'll encounter my brother tomorrow."

Greg rose and let out a deep sigh. "How delightful." Mycroft chuckled as he clasped his hand in Greg's and guided him to the bedroom.

"Come on, my Love."


	5. Chapter 5

Greg entered the hallway, kicking the door shut, "Mycroft?" He placed his keys on the small shelf next to the door along with a pile of files. "Mycroft?" He shouted, as he glanced over to the living room. He took his coat off and hung it on the hangers, noticing Mycroft's umbrella wasn't propped up against the wall as it usually was when he was in. "Not back yet then..." He sighed as he grabbed the pile off the shelf and entered the living room.

"Yep, definitely not back." He glanced down onto the coffee table where Mycroft's laptop was still placed under his own, he picked his up and headed upstairs into his bedroom.

Mycroft had promptly left Greg in bed in the early hours of the morning, leaving Greg a small note on his pillow, which had ended up sticking to his cheek.

_My darling Gregory, I'm afraid I got a phone call, another hiccup. I shall return by lunch, if you have gone to work, I shall make myself comfortable and wait for you to come home and we can watch some of your dreadfully boring TV shows. MH._

Luckily, he went to work. He contemplated working from home, but he would have been sat on the phone all day to Anderson, Donovan or Dimmock, along with Sherlock texting him constantly getting him to do things, which would be easier to get out of if he was there. The case he had left in Sherlock's hands, hoping that he would at least allow Scotland Yard some leeway and involve them, but alas no luck, had been solved by 6 o'clock. So he decided he was going to go home and write up the report, he needed to get out after a day of Sherlock breathing down his neck and return to the other half of the Holmes duo.

On the other hand, he did wish he had stayed at home. He hadn't been able to say one thing when Sherlock was around without getting a dirty look thrown his way. When Sherlock had turned up at the crime scene his eyes raked over him, analyzing him from afar, deducing his previous night with Mycroft. Sherlock had, also, stalked around him a couple of times, snarling at him slightly which had made Greg tense up. It was the most uncomfortable thing Sherlock had done, he made Greg feel like he'd done something wrong, as if he had disrespected Sherlock, when he hadn't. He'd merely become close to his brother.

He was glad when he made it home, he was relieved in fact. Until he'd entered the house to find Mycroft had not yet returned.

He threw his laptop and the pile of files onto the bed, stripping himself of his work clothes and changing into just a pair of pyjama bottoms. He made himself comfortable in the middle of his bed, crossing his legs in front of him and spreading out the files over the bed. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, _I have 3 hours to do this, this is going to take forever. I need more time. _He pulled his laptop into his lap and made a start on the report.

1 hour and a half later the bedroom door creaked open as a head peered round. "Gregory..."

He didn't glance up, he didn't need to. "Evening, Mycroft. They kept you longer again."

"I know..." Mycroft sighed as he stepped into the room. Greg looked at him out the corner of his eye, he'd lost his jacket on the way up to the bedroom, "I can make it up to you."

"I'm working, maybe tomorrow." He said, refusing to look at him. He felt the bed dip beside him, a cold hand placing itself on his shoulder and sliding down his back. He attempted to hold back a shiver, but it was difficult with the cold touch of fingertips dancing over his naked skin with no specific direction. "Mycroft." He sighed. "I have an hour and a half left to finish this and I am nowhere near completing it on time already. I'm, honestly, not upset about you coming home late. Well, not as upset as you may think."

"Hmmm." Mycroft's free hand soon joined the one dancing freely over Greg's back and smoothed round his sides to his front as he moved to kneel behind him. "My love, you could be doing something so much more interesting right now than writing some silly report."

"It's not a silly report, I have to do this. It's importa-" his breath hitched as he felt something warm and damp slide down from the nape of his neck to the centre of his shoulder blades. A shiver ran down his spine as he stifled a groan. "Mycroft! Stop it!"

"Are you going to put the laptop away?" Mycroft hummed into Greg's hair as his hands moved to Greg's sides and his fingertips resumed tracing invisible lines over his skin.

"No."

"Then I shall continue." Mycroft shifted behind Greg, his long legs appearing at the side of Greg's and squeezing against his thighs tightly as his hands wrapped around his torso, fingertips rubbing small circles over his skin, soft kisses being spread over his shoulder blades.

Greg sighed as he attempted to ignore his attention-seeking boyfriend wrapped around him, "Mycroft..."

"No." Mycroft nudged him in the back with his head before resting his head on his shoulder. Greg could see him out the corner of his eye pouting but chose to ignore him and carried on typing.

"Ow!" Greg yelped as Mycroft bit down on his shoulder. "Do you mind? I'm trying to work, it's bad enough I've got you wrapped around me like a Koala, I don't need you acting like an attention-seeking cat too."

"Hmmm." Greg felt Mycroft nuzzle against his back, his arms squeezing tighter around his torso as he hummed against his skin. They stayed like that for about fifteen minutes then Greg realised Mycroft's breathing had slowed and his arms weren't wrapped tightly around him, instead they were lying around his waist. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Mycroft but his head was out of view.

"Mycroft?" Silence. "Mycroft, dear?" Greg sighed, _He's asleep. I'm not surprised really, he left early hours of this morning and hasn't long returned. He's got to be drained of energy. _He shifted a little to get himself as comfortable as possible without waking the cat-like figure leaning against him deep in his slumber, _An hour left, this is going to be impossible. _He sighed and continued typing away on his laptop, cautiously reaching for the documents spread over the bed making sure his movements wouldn't disturb Mycroft.

As he reached for the farthest papers, he felt Mycroft stir against him, his grip tightening slightly around his waist. He froze, he halted all movement, he held his breath and he could have sworn his heart stopped for a moment. He heard Mycroft mumble something incoherent as his arms loosened and he fell back into his deep sleep. Greg smiled to himself as he grabbed the papers and slowly moved back. "Good night, Mycroft."


End file.
